The Ultimate MakeUp Contest -For Camels

It's do or die in the dunes of the Sahara.

There was a reunion of the entire tribe. No particular reason; they spontaneously got together. Everyone was looking for something but they couldn't articulate it. Frank, at his most sensitive core, asked loudly, “Is there any mint tea?"

Some laughed but nobody answered poor Frank. Eyes were darting every which way they could, looking for an approving glance, a reassurance gesture. But it will have to wait.

Frank's question hung in the air, still spinning, searching for its target, Chloe. After all, she made the best tea.

Then, she answered,

“Yes, Franky boy. I got you."

Everybody smiled. Music played again, chatting continued, and dancers danced. Frank, while he waited, squinted as he stared at the art-deco colonial light stand, puffing away the minutes that lingered. A smooth breeze caressed everyone's cheeks, which prompted expressions of relief…

”Good Lord, that breeze was sent from heaven!" someone said

“Indeed!"

“Destination: The Sahara Dunes!" contributed another.

And then, “Care of Cleopatra!!”... and the whole room exploded in laughter.

The year? No one was entirely sure. But their guess was 1939.

Plenty happened that year, most of it awful for humanity at large. That’s why, when the topic came up, camels and camelettes alike were grateful to be far from Europe, far from marching soldiers and burning cities.

In Casablanca, rumors swirled that camels were needed for the war effort. Protests broke out. The young blood took to the streets. Signs read:

"Do I look German to you?"

"100% Mauritanian!"

"Camels and Donkeys, Unite!!!"

And some signs were so ridiculous that drivers stopped just to read them, causing massive traffic jams. And boy, did it work.

Meanwhile, back at the camp, far from geopolitical crises, the real drama unfolded.

Chloe, ever the attention-seeker, declared a makeup competition—and, naturally, named herself the winner before it even began. She recruited her partners-in-crime, Sarah and the ever-impressionable newcomer, Monique.

The rules were simple: make the judges (Frank and Rodrigo included) laugh or deliver a makeup masterpiece that left them speechless.

Before they could even announce it, 256 noses had signed up. It was free to enter. It was a Tuesday. And so, under the freshly painted banner

"The Hottest Camelette in Camp Sahara," the competition began.

The prizes? Oh, they were worth fighting for.

1st Place: A deluxe toe clipper, trimmer, and a 10oz bottle of toe acrylic paint.

2nd Place: Camelette sunglasses and a matching hair bow.

3rd Place: A date with Rodrigo, the stud, plus a bottle of Moroccan champagne.

And so began the most spectacular comedy hour the desert had ever seen.

Competitors borrowed, stole, traded, and bartered for outfits. Then came the game-changer: word spread that the editor of Camel Vogue would be one of the judges. Suddenly, this was no longer just a camp joke—it was an opportunity.

Some saw it as their one-way ticket out of these dunes forever.

(To be continued…)

Until we meet again,

Love and light 🌹🗽

René

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